Whether unordained piety has a natural tendency to become greasy of aspect, and whether, among the many miracles vouchsafed to the amiable and really great Wesley, he received for his disciples of all time to come the gift of a miraculous straightness and lankiness of hair, I know not; but I do know that every Methodist parson I have had the honour to know has been of one pattern, and that Mr. Goodge is no exception to the rule. I am bound to record that I found him a very civil person, quite willing to afford me any help in his power, and far more practical and business-like than the rector of Dewsdale. It seems that the gift of tongues descended on the Goodges during the lifetime of John Wesley himself, and during the earlier part of that teacher's career. It was a Goodge who preached in the draper's warehouse, and it was the edifying discourse of a Goodge which developed the piety of Miss Rebecca Caulfield, afterwards Mrs. Haygarth. "That Goodge was my great-uncle," said the courteous Jonah, "and there was no one in Ullerton better acquainted with Rebecca Caulfield. I've heard my grandmother talk of her many a time. She used to send him poultry and garden-stuff from her house at Dewsdale, and at his instigation she contributed handsomely to the erection of the chapel in which it is my privilege to preach." I felt that I had struck upon a vein of gold. Here was a sharp-witted, middle-aged man--not an ancient mariner, or a meandering imbecile--who could remember the talk of a grandmother who had known Matthew Haygarth's wife. And this visit to Mr. Goodge was my own idea, not prompted by the far-seeing Sheldon. I felt myself advancing in the insidious arts of a private inquirer. "I am employed in the prosecution of a business which has a _remote_ relation to the Haygarth family history," I said; "and if you can afford me any information on that subject I should be extremely obliged." I emphasised the adjective "remote," and felt myself, in my humble way, a Talleyrand. "What kind of information, do you require?" asked Mr. Goodge thoughtfully. "Any information respecting Matthew Haygarth or his wife." Mr. Goodge became profoundly meditative after this. "I am not given to act unadvisedly," he began--and I felt that I was in for a little professional discourse: "the creatures of impulse are the children of Satan, the babes of Lucifer, the infants of Beelzebub. I take counsel in the silence of the night, and wait the whispers of wisdom in the waking hours of darkness. You must allow me time to ponder this business in my heart and to be still." I told Mr. Goodge that I would willingly await his own time for affording me any information in his power to give.